


His Hank, His Connor

by synthsexnspace



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Banter, Blow Jobs, Christmas Party, Come Swallowing, Connor has a vaginal biocomponent, Cunnilingus, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Bliss, Flaccid Penis, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hank starts off tipsy but sobers up somewhat and he consents to sex, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned 900Reed, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Smut, Sock Garters, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Connor, Trans Porn by Trans People, Whiskey Dick, no beta we die like men, soft cock, soft cock blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synthsexnspace/pseuds/synthsexnspace
Summary: Hank had a little too much to drink at the Christmas Party. He gets a little handsy with Connor.





	His Hank, His Connor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to @emeraldembers on Twitter! Thank you so much. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Note: I describe Connor as having a clit, because my headcanon is that Connor identifies as he/him, but switches out his genitalia between a vagina, a penis, and a smooth plate. He doesn't share the same view of himself as human transgender people do for themselves, so he refers to his vaginal component as being a hole and having a clit (as opposed to a trans man who may call his clit his cock instead, if that makes sense?) If this makes you uncomfortable, please be careful.

There’s muffled laughter as Connor supports Hank, Hank’s arm slung around his shoulders, Connor’s arm around Hank’s waist, the two of them shuffling into the house after Connor unlocks the door.

“I’m not even drunk. ‘M just tipsy, is all.”

“It’s still enough to affect your movement, Hank,” Connor teases lightly, ushering Hank to the couch and getting him sat down. Connor immediately heads to the kitchen to brew him a cup of coffee to sober him up. Hank gets terrible heartburn if he sleeps immediately after drinking.

It’s been nearly a year since Russian Roulette, and thankfully, Hank doesn’t drink as much as he used to. He mainly drinks only during special occasions now, and this _was_ a special occasion; it was the precinct’s Christmas party. Connor intervened in what would have ended up as a drinking contest between Hank and Gavin if it weren’t for Nines’s telepathic warning from across the room.

Connor presses the mug into Hank’s hands with a soft smile, fingers brushing against his skin when he pulls away.

“Go ahead and drink. We can go to bed when you’ve sobered up a little.”

Hank grimaces but obeys anyway, sipping slowly. He lifts his free arm in invitation for Connor to sit beside him and he does, nestling himself in beside Hank.

“Wanna watch a movie to pass the time?” Hank suggests.

They settle on some old buddy-cop comedy Hank loves so much that he can nearly recite the entire script (Connor finds it amusing) for the night. Hank sips his coffee again.

He sets his mug down on the side table.

It’s only been fifteen minutes.

“Hank, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Hank responds, words slurring thankfully less than before. “I’m watching the movie.”

“It seems counterproductive to watch a movie when your face is buried in my neck.”

“Hm, is that so.”

“Hank.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not drinking your coffee like I asked you to.”

“It can wait.”

“The longer you put off sobering up, the more likely you are to fall asleep and wake up with acid reflux.”

“Hm, what if I have another idea for passing time until I’m sober?”

“Like wha—”

Connor’s words die in his throat when he feels Hank’s hand, hot and heavy, hitch up the inside of his thigh, fingertips pressing gently into the meat there.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? You’re intoxicated, Hank.”

“I’m buzzed, Connor, not blackout drunk. I want to.”

His other hand, the one draped over the back of the couch, wraps around Connor’s neck, thumb rubbing soft lines over the shell of his ear. Connor feels his regulator pump begin to pump just a bit faster.

“You’re absolutely sure?” He breathes, body already leaning into Hank’s personal space.

“Positive. Now let me feel you up, would ya?”

“How romantic.”

“Yeah, well, fooling around on the couch isn’t exactly the most romantic scenario, so sue me. Help me get your shirt off.”

Connor is wearing a button-down, the cardigan the he had been wearing over it at the party had been hung with Hank’s jacket once they had gotten in the house ( _where it belongs_ ), and they work together to get it unbuttoned and pushed down Connor’s shoulders, leaving his torso bare for Hank’s hands to explore.

Hank runs his palms, dry and calloused, over Connor’s skin from his hips to his chest, thumbs rubbing circles over his nipples. Connor leans back into the cushions, biting his lip. Hank always feels so _warm_ , so _right—_

“Hank, please kiss me. Hank—”

“I got you, baby boy. C’mere.”

Hank threads one hand into Connor’s hair and pulls him forward, their mouths sliding wetly together. It’s messy and needy, Hank surprising Connor by being the one to shove his tongue into Connor’s mouth first instead of the other way around. Hank must be really pent up tonight, Connor thinks absentmindedly.

“Connor. I think you’re the only partner I’ve ever had that I’ve had to say ‘stop thinking’ while we’re making out.”

“Sorry, Hank.”

Connor lets his mind go blank as they resume kissing, shifting them so Connor is straddling Hank’s lap, Hank’s hands sliding up and down Connor’s back.

“I can never get enough of your skin,” Hank swears under his breath in between kisses, lips shiny and swollen and pink. Connor darts his tongue out, swiping over Hank’s lips, making Hank groan. Connor’s sensors register trace amounts of alcohol and coffee in his saliva.

“I feel the same about your mouth,” Connor responds lightly, the barest of smiles gracing his lips.

“Is that so?” Hank smirks.

Connor nods, pressing another kiss to his mouth. This results in another full few minutes of the two of them kissing and grinding against each other on the couch, trading saliva and artificial analysis fluid. When they pull away, a string of mixed spit breaks from between their mouths.

Hank wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling as he nudges Connor to move, arranging them again with Connor on his back so that he can unbuckle Connor’s belt. Connor eyes him curiously, eyes hooded, lips parted.

“God, you look so good from this angle,” Hank breathes as he works on undoing Connor’s jeans and pulling them down with his boxer-briefs, leaving Connor in nothing but his neat and tidy black dress socks.

Hank laughs, “Of _course_ you wore the sock garters.”

“These socks would have rolled down otherwise.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t have that happening at the Christmas party, what would everyone think about uptight Connor walking around, showing off his ankles? What a breakroom scandal.”

“You must already be sober if you can give me this much sass. We don’t _have_ to have sex, you know.”

“Now now, dearest, I didn’t say that—”

Connor cuts him off by reaching down and grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking him up to kiss him, swiping his tongue inside, dragging it against Hank’s teeth and making Hank moan lowly in response.

He releases Hank and he rocks back, mouth slack with desire. Connor spreads his legs, hands placed primly on his open thighs.

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Hank huffs, grinning as he runs his hands up Connor’s thighs, squeezing the synthetic muscle there and making Connor squirm. His eyes focus between Connor’s legs, eyebrow raised, “I see you decided to wear this one today. Did you do that just for me?”

“Perhaps.”

“So considerate.”

Hank adjusts himself so he can bend down without making his back ache too much, slipping his hands under Connor’s ass so he can lift him and pull him closer for extra comfort, then licks a long stripe along Connor’s labia.

Connor lets out a noise of encouragement, caught between wanting to let his eyes flutter shut in pleasure or stay open to watch as Hank begins lapping up the wetness at Connor’s entrance, tongue drawing long, slow lines from hole to clit. He drapes one leg over Hank’s shoulder, the metal clasp of his garter glinting in the dim lamplight.

Hank’s head is bobbing between his legs, mouth hot and wet against his flesh, making him writhe and moan. He threads the fingers of both hands through Hank’s hair, guiding his mouth up to his clit so Hank can suck on it, tongue swirling just where Connor likes.

“Hank…” Connor whines, head tipping back against the armrest of the couch. His regulator is pumping even faster now, and he can see the temperature increase alert in the corner of his HUD. He disregards it as he rocks his hips up against Hank’s mouth, grinding against his nose and chin as well. He can feel Hank’s facial hair rasping over the most sensitive areas and it makes him twitch, gripping Hank’s hair harder and tugging it.

Hank moans in response, his voice vibrating against Connor’s clit and drawing a responding moan from him. A perfect feedback loop of pleasure as Hank devours him hungrily.

Hank’s hands are tight around Connor's ass and thigh, gripping hard enough to turn the skin white from the lack of blue blood. Connor rocks his hips faster, his moans getting louder, Hank sucking and licking his clit _harder—_

Connor comes with his back arched like a bow, leg locked around Hank as he spasms, crying out Hank’s name. Hank runs his hands over Connor’s thighs again to soothe him as he comes down from his high.

“Such a good boy…”

Once Connor’s processor finally stops buzzing, he sits up, clambering into Hank’s lap once more, kissing and licking his own slick from Hank’s mouth, hands already reaching down to grope at the front of Hank’s jeans—

“Whoa, whoa, Connor, hold on,” Hank sighs, catching him by the wrists and pulling his hands back up.

“Hank?”

“I think I’m sober enough to go to sleep, alright?”

He sounds frustrated. Connor tilts his head.

“Is it because of the alcohol?”

“Yeah. Not the first time I’ve had whiskey dick since we’ve been together.”

“That’s true, but Hank, you’re almost completely sober now, so even if you can’t achieve an erection, you can still have an orgasm—”

Hank looks up at him, almost downright shy. He huffs another sigh and rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know, Connor. Old man dick is already a sore sight to begin with, let alone a soft one.”

Connor rolls his eyes, a well-learned habit from Hank, “Are we really going to have this conversation again?”

Hank doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hank, we’ve been sexually intimate for nearly a year now. I have observed your penis in various stages from flaccidity to erection. It still holds my interest no matter which stage it is currently in; and your age has no effect on me whatsoever. You have been made aware of this more than once.”

Hank laughs dryly, “You know how to make a man feel wanted, Connor.”

“ _Hank,_ ” Connor outright whines, gripping Hank’s collar again to pull him as close as possible so he can claim his mouth once more in a sloppy, desperate kiss. He pulls away, licking his lips.

“Hank, I love you. I love _you_ , your age doesn’t define that.”

“Alright, fine, Jesus Christ, cut it out with the fuckin’ puppy-dog eyes. You win.”

Connor kisses him again, writhing happily in his lap. Hank pulls away this time, Connor trying to chase his mouth but failing.

“If we’re gonna do this, then let’s move to the bedroom. My back’s hurting from sitting like this.”

“Got it.”

They manage to make it to the bedroom with little incident, Connor shedding his garters and socks, Hank allowing Connor to strip him with Connor pausing to kiss every few inches of skin that is revealed (much to Hank’s embarrassment), and they get Hank settled on his back, propped up comfortably with some pillows. Connor kneels between Hank’s spread legs, eyes following the trail of hair from his bellybutton down to his flaccid cock.

Connor smiles up at Hank, running his hands over Hank’s thighs in a mirror of before, calming Hank. Hank slowly but surely returns the smile, reaching up to cup Connor’s jaw and run his thumb over his cheek. He lets his hand fall back down to tangle in the sheets, watching as Connor leans down, takes Hank’s cock in his hand, and suck the head into his mouth.

It’s soft and pliant, with very little pre-ejaculate since Hank isn’t hard yet he’s still aroused, and Connor lowers his mouth until Hank’s entire length is pressed inside, resting on his tongue. Connor begins with a gentle suction, tongue massaging Hank’s cock slowly. It’s deep and intense, requiring more thorough contact than a basic blowjob since there’s no rigidity and sensitivity to work with.

Connor glances up at Hank through his eyelashes, checking on him.

Hank looks positively _wrecked_.

His face is flushed, splotchy pink in some areas, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging wide open as he takes long, heavy breaths to steady himself. Connor flushes with heat at the sight, proud that he can bring this reaction out of his shy, low-self-esteem Hank. He aches to be filled but is okay that he can’t right now. He busies himself with sucking and slurping Hank’s cock, mouth forming a tight ring to massage deep into the muscles.

Connor feels one of Hank’s hands rest in his hair, not gripping but just resting there, fingertips pressing against his scalp as he pulls his head up slow, slow, ever so _slow—_

And then he takes the entire length back in his mouth, his tongue flicking back and forth over the head to sensitize the nerves there, wrenching a pained groan from Hank as he seizes, hips jerking as he unloads in Connor’s mouth, cum spilling over his tongue slowly, trickling into his throat.

Hank is wheezing to catch his breath as Connor sits up, swallowing Hank’s cum. He crawls up to Hank’s side, looking down at him fondly.

“How did that feel?”

Hank blinks those gorgeous blue eyes up at him, smile wide and unbelieving.

“Holy shit, I’ve never felt anything like that before. I could actually feel the orgasm building up. It was like I was coming in slow-motion. How did you know about that?”

“I looked it up through Google.”

Hank lets out a bark of laughter, dragging his smiling Connor down into his arms and yanking the cover up over the both of them. Connor buries his face into Hank’s neck and tangles his legs with Hank’s, listening as Hank’s breathing evens out and he eventually falls asleep. Connor observes his sleeping face for about an hour before deciding to shift into stasis until it was time to get up and fix breakfast.

Right before he slipped into nothingness, he replayed the memory of Hank laughing and felt his pump beat faster.

_I love you, Hank. Sweet dreams._

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Twitter at @synthsexnspace ! I am always available to talk about fandom stuff. Love you all!


End file.
